


The Bourque Option

by AuthorToBeNamedLater



Series: Keeping Up With The Raptors [21]
Category: Hockey RPF, No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Sports, Boston Bruins, Bromance, Gen, Hockey, Male Friendship, Original Character(s), Pittsburgh Penguins, Raptors, Ray Bourque - Freeform, Ray Shero - Freeform, Seattle, Spiritual, Sports, Trade Deadline, Washington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:18:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorToBeNamedLater/pseuds/AuthorToBeNamedLater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank Sheridan and Andor Ronningen have a choice: Stay in Seattle or take a gamble going to another team that seems destined for the Stanley Cup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bourque Option

**Author's Note:**

> The Bourque trade really did happen. Ray Shero really is general manager for the Pittsburgh Penguins. None of the players mentioned here, besides Crosby (obviously) are real.
> 
> This is in Hockey RPF because it mentions Shero and Bourque and the Penguins, but none of them actually appear as characters.
> 
> As with many of my stories, this ended up way longer than I intended.

Pat MacGregor was sitting on his living room couch, fully intending to enjoy a Friday away from his job and close to his wife when his phone rang.

Pat leaned over to the end table and looked at the phone. _Will._ He answered the call.

“I get that you have no home life, Will, but the arena better be on fire or something.”

The Raptors' head coach, as usual, ignored the less-than-pleasant greeting. _“Got a few minutes, Pat?”_

“Just a few,” Pat growled as his wife, Kate, came in carrying two cups of coffee. She set them on the coffee table and sat on the couch, watching her husband expectantly. “You need to get married so you'll have better things to do than bug your GM on a Friday night.”

Will continued to push past Pat's verbal barbs. _“What if we Bourqued Hank and Ronny?”_

Pat frowned. “You mean trade them so they'll have a chance to win?” The Boston Bruins had traded their captain Ray Bourque to the Colorado Avalanche in 1999 so Bourque would have a chance to win the Stanley Cup. He had, in 2001, and then retired. Every Bruins fan had turned into an Avalanche fan for those seven games.

“ _Yeah.”_

Pat blew out a breath. “That's no small potatoes. Both of them?”

“ _If they want it.”_

“Has either of them mentioned this to you?”

Kate got up and went back to the kitchen.

“ _No. This is all me.”_

“And you want to talk to them after practice tomorrow.”

“ _Actually, I was thinking you would. Being the GM and all.”_

The business wheels were already turning in Pat's head. Hank and Andor were both old, but they were still good. Some team with a short-term need would probably be glad to pick up one or both of them. The question was what Seattle could get in return.

“ _It's a long shot. But they've both done a lot for us. I guess I feel like we owe them the option.”_

Pat couldn't disagree. “OK, what do you say you and I get together before morning skate tomorrow and talk about this? I'll talk to Hank and Ronny after.”

“ _Sounds good. 9:30? That gives us an hour.”_

“9:30. See you then and don't call me again tonight.”

“ _Have a nice night, Pat.”_

Pat hit the “end” button and put the phone back on the end table.

“Was that Will?” Kate asked.

“Sure was.”

“What's going on?” Kate tucked one leg under herself, leaned her shoulder into the couch, and twirled a lock of blond hair around her finger

Pat picked up his coffee. “He wants to see if Hank and Ronny want to be traded so they can have a chance to win something.”

“Do you think they'll go?”

Pat shrugged. “I don't know.”

.

.

.

The next day after practice, Pat summoned Hank and Andor to his office at Boeing Arena. The two blueliners now sat across from their GM wearing the vaguely wary looks of kids called into the principal's office without knowing why.

Pat leaned forward, clasped his hands on the desk, and got right to the point. “Would either of you like to be Bourqued?”

At first there was no response. Then Hank spoke. “You...like Robert or Ray?”

Pat scowled at Hank. “Who on God's green earth is Robert Bourque?”

Andor took over from there. “You...you mean like trade us so we'd have a chance to win the Stanley Cup?”

Pat nodded.

Both players just gaped at him.

“Will one of you big oafs please say something?” Pat asked irritably.

“Uh...” Hank cleared his throat. “Where?”

“The usual suspects,” Pat said. “Pittsburgh, Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago...there's teams out there, good teams, with a chance to go all the way in the next few years that would take one or both of you.”

“Have you talked to any of them yet?” Andor asked.

Pat shook his head. “No. Nobody knows about this except you, me and Will.”

Hank and Andor looked at each other, then back at Pat. “When do you need to know?”

“The deadline's not exactly looming,” Pat said. “but we can't afford to dilly-dally here. If you want to move, we'd like to get the ball rolling before our options dry up.”

.

.

.

As soon as they were outside the arena, Hank looked at Ronny. “What do you think?”

Andor shook his head. “I'm gonna have to talk to Inna.”

“Well, obviously. But what do you think?”

“I don't think there's a lot of teams who'd be interested in me for half a year,” Andor said.

“Why not? Teams go for rent-a-players all the time.”

“Not rent-a-players who are going on 45 years old.” Andor dug in his pocket for his keys. “What about you?”

“I don't know,” Hank said. “I don't know.” He started for his car.

“Hank,” Andor called. “Who is Robert Bourque?”

Hank smiled. “Robert Bork was a Supreme Court nominee in the Reagan administration. He was qualified but the Senate Democrats didn't like him so they stonewalled his confirmation hearings. They Borked him.”

“No way I'm leaving.” Andor hit the unlock button on his fob. His car chirped in response.

“Why not?”

“Where else am I going to get these free history lessons?”

.

.

.

Inna Ronningen was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine and letting the cat do figure-eights around her ankles when her husband walked in the door from morning skate.

“Inna, I need to talk to you about something.”

Two decades ago Inna would have found Andor's no-frills entrance insensitive, but by now she knew not to expect anything else from him. “What is it?” Inna looked up and furrowed her brow. “Is everything OK?”

Andor sat at the table. “Pat talked to me and Hank after skate,” he started. “He...offered to put us on the trade block so we could go to a team with a chance to win the Cup.”

Inna blinked. “What? Are you gonna do it?”

“That's why I'm talking to you,” Andor said.

Inna sat back in her chair. She and Andor had been through trades twice before—from Boston and Carolina. It was nothing she had any desire to go through again.

 _But the Cup..._ He might deny it all day long, but Inna knew that three disappointing trips to the Cup Final bothered her husband. It bothered her too. Andor had given hockey everything he had for his entire life. He'd struck out for North America and the NHL when he could easily have played it safe in the European leagues. He got passed over in the draft before the Bruins snatched him up as an undrafted free agent at the last minute. Andor had worked too hard to have three Stanley Cup losses and no wins on his resume.

“Do you want to leave?” Inna asked.

“We all know I'm not coming back next year, Inna. I doubt a lot of teams would have much interest in me.”

“But do you _want_ to leave?” Inna pressed.

“No.” Andor shook his head. “I want to retire here. You know that. And I don't want to put you and the boys through another move.”

“But you want to win the Stanley Cup.”

Andor looked away and shrugged.

“You think Hank's gonna do it?” Inna asked.

“If I had to guess I'd say no,” Andor answered. “He's been here his whole career, and it would mean uprooting his family. And that's a lot of family.”

Inna reached across the table and took her husband's hand. “Whatever you think is right, Andor, I'm with you. You know that?”

Andor squeezed back and smiled at her. “You're too good for me. You know that?”

“Yes, darling. I am well aware.”

.

.

.

Katie Sheridan heard Hank's car pull into the driveway just as she finished changing five-month-old Daniel.

“Right on time,” Katie muttered. Daniel had just been fed, burped and changed; he would probably go down for a nap now. Katie took a gamble and set the baby in his crib. He didn't complain, in fact he already looked half asleep, so she scurried out of the master bedroom to greet her husband.

“Hi, sweetie.” Katie said. She stood on tiptoe to give Hank a kiss. “How was practice?” She pulled back and studied her man's face. “What's going on?”

“Pat talked to me and Ronny after practice and asked if we wanted him to trade us somewhere so we'd have a chance to win the Cup,” Hank said quietly.

Katie blinked. “I...um...” she swallowed and lowered her voice. All the kids were downstairs doing school. They weren't likely to hear anything. “What did you say?”

“I didn't say anything,” Hank said.

“Do you want to?”

“Win the Cup? Of course I do,” Hank said. He looked over Katie's shoulder, probably making sure no little Sheridans had wandered in. “But I'm not sure it's worth uprooting the kids.”

Katie chewed her lip. “Where would we go?” Unless Hank went to Vancouver, she knew it wouldn't be anywhere close.

“Pat mentioned Pittsburgh and Boston,” Hank said. “And a couple of other places.”

Katie's heart plummeted to the floor. _Across the country...but for the Cup.._

“Katie?”

“Do you want to?” Katie asked again. “Leave Seattle?”

“No. No, I don't,” Hank said firmly. “You know I love the Raptors.”

Katie nodded. Hank did love the Raptors, as well he should. The team had seen him through his entire career, providing stability and security that most hockey players and their families could only dream about. Katie couldn't picture her husband in another sweater. She didn't want to.

“But you also want to win,” Katie said.

“I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But I'd never do this without your blessing.”

“When?”

“Look, Katie, I'm not saying I'm gonna make the jump. But Pat made the offer, and we have to consider it. Is it OK with you if I look? Just look. There's nothing certain here.”

Katie nodded.

.

.

.

_I can't imagine playing anywhere else._

The next afternoon, as the Raptors suited up for a Saturday matinee against the St. Louis Blues, Hank surveyed the home dressing room. It was where he'd walked in to play his first game, and where he'd always imagined he would walk in to play his last. For the past 10 years, it hadn't even been an imagining—it had been an assumption. Way back when he signed that contract Hank had figured that by the time he hit 41 he'd be done or close to it, and he'd either retire or sign a couple of one-year deals until it was finally time to hang up the skates.

 _Have I ever even been in the visitors' dressing room here?_ Hank wondered. He looked down at his sweater and tried to imagine a brighter red for Chicago, black for Boston or Pittsburgh or Los Angeles. _Hockey in Los Angeles?_ Having grown up in the snowy winters of Denver, hockey and palm trees just didn't mix in Hank's mind.

“Hank? Are you, um, OK?”

Hank looked up. It was Friedeich van Ravensburg, one of the call-ups from Tacoma. “Fritz” had been up and down for a couple of years now, making his latest trip to the big club to replace the ailing Pete Lochner.

“You're like, staring at your chest,” Fritz pointed out in his heavy German accent.

“Everything's fine,” Hank answered quickly. He forced a smile. “Thanks, Fritz.”

Frtiz didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded and went back to his stall.

Hank knew he needed to snap out of it. He couldn't let on that anything was up, and he was normally a more energetic dressing room presence than this. The guys would notice.

So when Ronny walked in, Hank nodded in greeting and acted like nothing was different, like one or both of them might not be here in a month.

.

.

.

Despite how he might appear to those who did not know him, Andor Ronningen was not indecisive. He had simply never made a hasty decision in his life.

He'd pondered for months whether, when, and how to ask Inna to marry him. He'd spent a long time weighing the pros and cons of trying to make it in the NHL or staying in Norway. And he'd put a great deal of thought into staying with hockey for one more season.

Now the oldest player in the league sat in his car, driving the highway home after a 2-1 win over the Blues, thinking about whether he wanted to stay in Seattle or gamble the final few months of his career trying to win it all elsewhere.

 _It's a gamble either way,_ Andor thought as he changed lanes to approach his exit. There was no guarantee the best team in the league would win. In fact, the best team often _didn't_ win. Playoffs were playoffs, whether you had the President's Trophy or sneaked in by a point.

 _'In the words of Gandalf, that is not for us to decide. All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that this is given to us.'_ Andor remembered Fr. Underdahl's words from back over the summer. _Well, all right then. God, what do You want me to do with the next few months You have given me? Spend them here or somewhere else?_

Andor accelerated as he left the highway onto the main road. _Should we move Ambjorn halfway through high school?_ The oldest Ronningen boy was quite the soccer star, and his high school had one of the best programs around.

 _Hank._ Andor stopped at a red light. _It would be hard to leave Hank._ Andor's D partner for the last seven years. One of his closest friends. Their wives were friends. Their kids were friends. It wasn't impossible that wherever Andor went Hank might end up too, but Andor had to consider that they would go their separate ways.

The Ronningens had planned on staying in Seattle at least through Ambjorn's graduation. Was the chance to win worth changing all that?

.

.

.

Hank yawned widely and poked at the coffee maker. Daniel hadn't slept well the night before, meaning neither of his parents had either. The baby had finally fallen asleep a couple of hours ago and Hank had decided to get up and let Katie sleep as long as Daniel did. The Raptors had the day off, so Hank figured he could nap later on.

Just as the water started to drip into the coffee pot, Hank's phone beeped. Rubbing his eyes, he turned around and looked at the screen. It was Jim Cleary, his agent _. What does Jim want?_

Hank swiped his finger along the bottom of the screen and held the iPhone to his ear. “Jim?”

“ _Hank. Pat just called me. Ray Shero called him me last night,”_ Jim's Texas twang came over the phone.

 _Ray Shero._ Hank forced his sluggish mind to work. “Pittsburgh?” Yes, he was pretty sure Ray Shero was the general manager for the Penguins.

“ _Yes. He wants you and Andor.”_

Hank blinked slowly, still not firing on all cylinders. “To play for the Penguins.”

“ _You feeling all right?”_ Jim asked. _“You sound a little out of it.”_

“Yeah, sorry. I just got up,” Hank answered. “Um...what's he offering?”

“ _He's offering you two years at four million. He's offering the Raptors Wes Carter.”_

Now Hank was awake. “Wes Carter?” Wes Carter was an emerging threat on the blue line. He hadn't been particularly regarded in his draft class of four years ago, but once he emerged on the NHL scene Carter had shone like the sun. Hank couldn't imagine why the Penguins would be willing to part with him. It wasn't quite like trading Sidney Crosby, but it was close. “Why?”

“ _Probably the only contract they can get rid of easily right now.”_

“But it's not like they need us,” Hank reasoned.

“ _They kind of do,”_ Jim explained. _“They just lost Ben Steelman for the season with a torn MCL, and this is hush-hush but Dan Berger is most likely not coming back.”_

Hank felt his stomach drop. “At all?” Dan Berger was a veteran defenseman who had played for the Raptors for 2006-2007 and 2007-2008 seasons before going to Pittsburgh. He had been sidelined for the past year and a half with concussion symptoms that wouldn't go away.

“ _Yeah. At all,”_ Jim answered sadly. _“So they're down two D and looking to shore up their blue line, and they think you and Andor are good candidates.”_

“That doesn't sound like a good move,” Hank said. “For them, at least.” For the Raptors it would mean signing a potential superstar who could be the future of their team and inject some youth into an aging roster.

“ _Hey, I'm just telling you the options,”_ Jim said.

“What did Pat say?”

“ _He won't do it if you won't. He was pretty clear about that.”_

Hank rubbed his left eye with his free hand. “OK. I'm gonna need to think about this.”

“ _Yeah, of course. But they're looking to make the deal soon, Hank. You need to give me an answer by Thursday.”_

“Sure.”

“ _Talk to you later, Hank.”_

“Yeah.” Hank hit the end button, rested his arms on the countertop, and bowed his head.

_Oh, Lord, what now?_

.

.

.

The next day after practice, Andor found Hank as he exited Rand Morgan Arena. “Jim called me last night.” In addition to sharing the blue line, and sometimes a brain, Andor and Hank also shared an agent.

“Yeah, he called me too,” Hank said. “Pittsburgh.”

“Yup. I'm thinking about it.”

“So am I. Katie even said she's OK with it.”

Andor looked out across the parking lot and wondered what the lot at the Penguins' practice arena looked like. “We could go together.”

“Yeah.”

The two stood in silence for a few minutes.

“Something about this doesn't feel right,” Hank said.

“Stop it,” Andor admonished.

“Stop what?”

“Don't do this.” Andor turned to face his teammate. “Listen: Ray Bourque loved the Bruins and the Bruins loved him. They loved him enough to give him a chance to get what he was never going to get in Boston. The Raptors are giving us the same chance.”

“You're right.” Hank sounded less like he was agreeing with Andor and more like he was trying to convince himself. “I just can't shake the feeling this won't work.”

“All we can do is our best and the rest is up to Someone else,” Andor said.

“Good advice,” Hank said absently.

“You gave me that advice.”

That snapped Hank out of his daze. “I did not.”

“Yes you did.”

Hank put his hands on his hips and faced Andor dead on. “When?”

“Before the Final last year.”

“I never said that!”

Andor couldn't help but laugh. “You did, Hank!”

“Your memory's going."

“We were on our way to New Jersey for Game 1 and I--”

“You slept that whole flight!” Hank insisted. “You were dreaming.”

Andor decided to let it go. “It is good advice, is it not?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

.

.

.

“So what do you think about this?” Phil Latham, half of AM 710's _Latham & Val _morning show, asked his co-host as the show rolled through its third hour. “This report that the Penguins are in talks with Andor Ronningen and Hank Sheridan?”

“I gotta wonder if this is a Ray Bourque thing.” Fred Vallander leaned back in his chair. “You know, trade the old guy so he'll have a chance at the Cup.”

“That's all I can think,” Phil said. “Hank Sheridan's spent his entire career here. Ronningen's been here what, seven years? It's not like they're underperforming or dead weight on the salary cap.”

“So what if this were you?” Fred asked. “Say you'd never won and in the last year of your career you get an offer to go to a team that might go all the way. Would you take it?”

“Oh, yeah! In a second,” Phil answered without hesitation. It wasn't anything he'd ever had to consider—he'd been the goalie for the Raptors' 1993 Cup win. “I can't imagine either of these guys wants to go, but the truth is they've both spent their entire lives chasing after the Cup and neither of them has it. They know time's running out and they might decide this is their last-ditch effort.”

.

.

.

It was no difficult task to irritate Pat MacGregor. And Ray Shero had just done it with spectacular aplomb.

The Penguins had backed out of their offers to Hank and Ronny. They'd received an offer they couldn't refuse from the Toronto Maple Leafs, taking Wes Carter and giving Pittsburgh two young bucks Pat couldn't remember. Unless they decided to pursue deals with other teams, or someone else came calling, Hank Sheridan and Andor Ronningen were Raptors for the foreseeable future.

Pat had barely begun to contemplate his next move when the two players in question walked right through his open door.

“You wanted to talk to us?” Hank said.

Pat ran a hand over his bald head. “Never mind. Ray just called. Toronto offered them a couple of guys.”

“Who?” Hank asked.

“I forget,” Pat responded honestly.

“So that's it,” Andor said.

“Yup.” Pat looked at both the defensemen. “Unless either of you wants to look elsewhere or someone else comes calling, you're stuck here.”

Andor nodded. “OK.”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed. “OK.”

"Do you want me to look?" Pat asked. "See if there's some other team out there that doesn't back out of offers at the last minute?"

Andor shook his head. "Not on my account."

"Nor mine," Hank agreed.

Pat waved his hand toward the door. “Get out of here.” He now had to call three other GMs and inform them that Hank and Andor were not for sale, and he wanted to get it over with quickly.

.

.

.

The moment he got outside the door, Andor pulled out his phone and texted Inna.

_**PIT deal fell through. Will talk when I get home.** _

“I guess that settles that,” Andor said as he hit send. He smiled at Hank. “I never felt right about this either. I guess your sixth sense was right on again.”

“I didn't either,” Hank confessed. He finished typing into his phone and put it back in his pocket. “This is my home, Ronny. I belong here.”

“Yeah.” Andor felt like a 200-pound barbell had been lifted off his shoulders.

_And the Stanley Cup story hasn't been written yet._  


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.

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**Seattle Raptors @raptorshockey**

**MacGregor confirms PIT renegs on offer to HS7 and AR41. Both will stay in Seattle.**


End file.
